


Starchild

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Deals and Contracts, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Non-graphic character death, Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: “You would bargain with the gods themselves for their life? So be it. We will grant you audience.”





	Starchild

**Author's Note:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2019!
> 
> Day 2 | Bargain
> 
> Tumblr post here: https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/post/187449873254/ffxivwrite-2019-prompt-2-starchild

_“You would bargain with the gods themselves for their life? So be it. We will grant you audience.”_

Waking up feels like drowning. The Warrior of Light, Eikon Slayer, hero to Ala Mhigo and Doma, destroyer of Ultima, Hydaelyn’s Champion, the one person G’raha had seen as less insufferable than most of his company during the expedition into the Crystal Tower—the beacon of peace and glory of man—is dead. Has been dead. Long since buried and turned to legend.

G’raha can’t believe it when the doors to the Tower creak outward and push him toward wakefulness, expecting to hear of their incredible exploits, possibly even see their likeness in statue or song.

He does get song and story, but it’s of a hero stolen from them far too young—just another casualty of Black Rose—and the Garlean hound that stole away with their body. The few that remain allied to their side left with nothing to bury save the titles that led their hero to destruction. They save memoirs, spin tales that warp each time they’re told until the Warrior is all but a Primal unto themself.

There are few churches in the world G’raha wakes to. The precious handful that exist are sanctuaries more than they are places or worship, the magnanimous face of someone he barely had the chance to call a friend a common motif among altars and carved crystal rosaries. It’s startling when he’s told that he can confess and they will listen, the worship of people decades after their death in direct contrast to the ever-selfless nature of the adventurer he had known. The Warrior of Light, Saint of Lost Causes and Bringer of Eternal Peace, some of the worshippers would say.

G’raha prays that they can hear him and asks that they rest. Knowing them, even death and a false godhood would not stop their kindnesses.

He very quickly learns that living in a world gone mad requires far more vitality than he has after atrophying within the Tower. There are many years spent just catching up before he’s able to do anything of substance. The Ironworks are still around (they’re stubborn fools, but the absolute best company he could ask for) and no less chaotic for the lack of one Cid “I blow up bulkheads for fun” Garlond at their head.

He studies and he works and he prays among the worn copies of folk tales detailing the Warrior’s exploits more than he does in any church. It is a paltry offering, that of his belated devotion, but it is the best he can do.

And then age catches up with him and he surrenders to the crush of crystal within his rib cage. There is no catharsis when he escapes the clutches of time, flinging himself into an assured torture of slowly growing to be part of the Crystal Tower while all else around him grows and is reborn.

There is only shimmering blue and one last faltering breath before he is on the First, Tower and all. He has abandoned them, he knows, but if this works it will not be for long, he promises.

_I will bring them back, no matter the cost._

And he does, five tries and three conspiracies later, but they are not his Warrior. This one looks at him like he is something to be wary of—and G’raha does not blame them for it. He is not a pleasant sight with crystal crawling up his limbs—before demanding he fix the problems he has caused.

He smiles, cryptic and mournful, and begs, “Pray, forgive me, my friend.” There is barely a moment between when he whispers those five words and when the ephemeral space about them groans like the dying of a star, tearing itself apart along with the unfamiliar Warrior’s soul. He waits until the body is empty before breathing life back into it one fractured piece at a time.

_“You see, I made a deal for the one I love.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i take requests >;3c  
xiv tunglr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
main | https://kiriami-sama.tumblr.com/  
main | https://twitter.com/flamingacekiri


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